Three years ago or so I received a Facebook message from a
thoughtful young friend-of-a-friend. After studying Christian history, she
concluded that she knew too little about the Orthodox Church, so I answered her
questions as best I could.
I also admonished her to discover the Church through its
liturgical and communal life, not the abundant resources available about
Orthodoxy online. In North America, where Orthodoxy is a tiny minority, it is often
easier to learn about the faith through the Internet than from the nearest
Orthodox priest, who may be a long drive away, speak poor English, or be
baffled by the very existence of a “regular American” interested in the
Church.
The Internet has given us Orthodox the solidarity,
confidence, and courage to be increasingly visible among American Christians,
where once we were easily ignored or forgotten. This visibility demands greater
humility, love, and integrity from us, and we should welcome the opportunity to
practice these virtues. But it also offers greater room for error, sin, and
self-centeredness, of which we must remain vigilant.
It is unhealthy to have more co-religionist friends online
than in your own parish. I have seen this happen to some converts who first
encountered Orthodoxy online—an increasingly common phenomenon—and therefore
naturally built their new identities around people and ideas from the Internet.
The parish, characterized by creative chaos, is by definition a place to practice
humility, patience, and brotherly love, and to be challenged by how others live
the Christian life, not to have one’s biases reinforced.
By contrast, the online inquirer is comfortably anonymous,
and can freely consume a wide variety of viewpoints and opinions. And there is
a lot of junk out there: Anonymous blogs make the Orthodox case for every outré
cause, from monarchism to Marxism. Faceless vigilantes harbor dark vendettas
against bishops. And respectable-sounding forums provide a place for lonely
sticklers to pursue uncharitable acts of Pharisaism against everyone from Roman
Catholics (ultramontane Latinizers) to Muslims (bloodthirsty Turks) to the
wrong kind of Orthodox (new-calendar ecumenists, or heartless
liturgy-fetishists). One can easily find a sympathetic corner of the Internet
and stay there, without having to face uncomfortable alternatives to one’s
preferred vision of Orthodoxy. This is dark and monstrous.
But the Internet can also be an effective vector for the
very best of the new American Orthodoxy, enriched by fresh converts and by
opportunities for connection beyond one’s own parish, diocese, or ethnic
jurisdiction. Orthodox Arts
Journal, for example, showcases an ongoing creative revival in
Orthodox architecture, iconography, music, and liturgical craft. The star of
this movement is perhaps architect Andrew Gould, whose church
designs are highly faithful to old-world antecedents, yet embrace
the local idioms of South
Carolina, New Mexico,
Texas,
and so on.
And in some ways, the Internet has helped American Orthodoxy
better fulfill its churchly ministry. Metropolitan Savas (Zembillas), the Greek
Orthodox hierarch in Pittsburgh, has thousands of dedicated Facebook followers. The
campus ministry Orthodox Christian Fellowship
owes its success in part to its leaders’ and members’ embrace of email lists,
social media, and other ways of coordinating geographically scattered networks.
So do charitable ministries, from the Fellowship of Orthodox Christians
United to Serve (FOCUS) to International
Orthodox Christian Charities (IOCC). And to help mitigate the
learning curve associated with the various traditions of Orthodox sacred music,
many websites offer video, audio, and print resources for overworked
liturgists.
Inevitably, a twenty-first-century American Orthodox culture
includes Internet humor. The Onion Dome, a satirical news site, has existed
online in some form since the early 1990s. Its scrupulous Russian priest
character, Fr. Vasily Vasilievich, is invoked whenever an Orthodox Christian
jokingly exclaims, “IS OUTRAGE!” or asks, “Was it tofu pad thai in 19th-century Russia?” More recently,
Facebook has given rise to the inevitable Eastern Orthodox Ryan Gosling and Grumpy Orthodox Cat , as well as Hyperdox Herman, which has become a meme factory in its own right. On
YouTube, Sr. Vassa Larin has found a loyal audience by mixing an academic pedigree with
hilarious self-awareness. In a sense, American Orthodoxy’s maturity can be
gauged by its willingness to laugh at itself.
Last February, after hundreds more Facebook messages, texts,
and emails, my young friend was received into the Orthodox Church. She reached
that place of reconciliation by confidently making our common faith her own.
Shaped by the Church’s services and practices, she brought her local experience
of the Church to her online life. The Internet is the social and cultural
public square where Orthodoxy is encountering its future. With every earnest
Tumblr blog and well-intentioned Facebook message, Orthodoxy presents Christ’s
Gospel, at once intimate and strange to every human heart, to a new and
spiritually hungry world.
Ivan Plis is an Orthodox Christian in the Washington, DC area.
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